Maggots! All Of You!
by Chris Keating
Summary: The Soldier decides that it's time to sit the rest of his team  who he views as a bunch of spineless sissies  down and whip them into shape. All is going well until the Scout decides that he's sick of listening to this windbag. T for minor violence.


Maggots! All of You!

The Soldier paced back and forth, eyeing the "new recruits" as he did, although they couldn't tell he was looking at them because of his thick military helmet. The sound of his boots clomping along the floor echoed in the large intelligence room of the Red base. As the Soldier went back and forth, apparently forgetting that there was a room full of about eight other people watching and waiting, both expectant and irritated.

One person in particular, a Scout, was getting antsy at the thought of having to sit and watch some helmet wearing schmuck walk around and talk to himself, which The Soldier had apparently started doing.

"Buncha…Wouldn't know combat if it bit 'em in the…If they were Blu I'd…"

"Uh, Yo!" The Scout finally got sick of listening and spoke up. "Ain't there a battle goin' on out there? At least, shouldn't we be, y'know, DEFENDIN' OUR FREAKIN' BASE?"

The Soldier turned to the Scout.

"Boy, you think you know war?"

"Yeah, I do. Gotta problem with dat?" The Scout said defiantly.

"Maggot! I'm going to tell you a little story…"

"Ooh, goody! Story time!" You gonna get me some warm milk and put me down for a nap afterwards?" The Scout asked in mock-glee.

"If you don't listen, the only nap you'll be getting is a dirt nap! Six feet underground! In the dirt!" The Soldier spat.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, helmet-head." The Scout muttered, resigning himself to listen, figuring it'd shut this windbag up sooner.

"If fighting is sure to result in victory, then you must fight! Sun Tzu said that, and I'd say he knows a little more about fighting than you do, pal, because he invented it, and then he perfected it so that no living man could best him in the ring of honor."

The Scout rolled his eyes. Not this stupid story again…

"…And then he used his fight money to buy two of every animal on earth, then he herded them onto a boat, and then do you know what he did, boy?"

"Beat the crap out of every single one of them?" The Scout asked sarcastically, knowing the answer from many recitals of this story.

"NO! He beat the crap out of every single one!" The Soldier screamed at him, spraying his face with spit. "And from that day forward, any time a bunch of animals are in one place, it's called a zoo!"

"Unless it's a farm, right?" The Scout pointed out.

The Soldier stopped dead, a slight vein popping in his neck. Then he screamed loudly, pulled out his handy folding shovel, whacked the side of his helmet with it a few times and then smashed it into the Scout's face, dropping him to the floor.

"You WILL respect your superior, Short Pants!"

The Scout was unconscious, or possibly dead. To everybody else, it was a bit hard to tell.

"Excuse me, Herr Soldier," the Medic spoke up after a minute. "May I be excused? I must tend to ze young schkout."

"Excuse me! EXCUSE ME! It's Krauts like you that cost us the big one back in 1944!"

"If mein history texts are correct, Herr Soldier, we lost zat war to ze Allies." The Medic pointed out. "And ze war ended in 1949. Surely a distinguished man in ze uniform such as yourself would know zis-"

The Medic didn't get a chance to finish his sentence before exploding into thousands of little pieces.

The Soldier blew the smoke away from his rocket launcher and looked around the room. He stammered a bit at the sheer amounts of insolence he was seeing. The Engineer was tinkering with one of his sentries, the Heavy was eating a sandvich and clearly ignoring everything around him, the Demoman was passed out piss-drunk behind the bench, the Pyro was roasting marshmallows using his flamethrower, the Sniper was sharpening his kukri knife, and the spy was nowhere to be seen.

This dilemma was quickly solved when the Blu spy reappeared and made a run out the door, hauling the Reds' intelligence behind him. The Soldier, flabbergasted that he had let a filthy Blu slip by, pulled out his shotgun and took the spy down before he had time to reach the door.

The soldier looked out over his team. As useless, spineless and weak as these pansies appeared to be, the Soldier knew from years of pretending to be in the military that no man won wars alone, only through teamwork. As he thought about this, a small crooked smile curled across his lips.

But it was the Reds' exact lack of teamwork that cost them the battle at that very moment, due to an Ubercharged Heavy, three Scouts, a Pyro, and a Medic charging into the base at that very moment and killing all of them.

The End…At least, until the next round starts.


End file.
